Playtime
by TheBlackCatCrossing
Summary: Joker indulges in his ultimate fantasy. Slash. R/R. DCU. Special guest stars Nightwing and Harley Quinn. Drama, suspense, slash riddled with some elements of humor. One Shot. Complete.


Title: The Sweetest Taboo

Genre: Slash with elements of suspense, mystery and drama.

DCU setting

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, damn it. I just own a big collection of comics and toys.

Author's note: Written as a creative challenge and I wanted to flex the phalanges and mind again. I hope you enjoy it. Special guest stars include Nightwing and Harley Quinn.

* * *

It began like any normal routine. A call in the wee hours on the morning and on a weekday only meant two hours of sleep, if possible, before he would have to turn in for an eight AM meeting at Wayne Tower. It did not matter because he was trained for this specific type of job. Even fire fighters have to make due but his job encompassed much larger and even deadlier tasks. If Firefly was his only problem then the comparison would have been adequate but it was not. It was a ritual and he had to abide by it like religion. It did not matter what race, creed or socio-economic status the victim was in. They all had DNA, they all had families that cared for them.

Her name was Mindy Carlton and she was the niece of the city district manager. Although her name and association would suggest a bit more power and prestige, she was ultimately no different than the baby he had to save after the Gotham earthquake or the middle aged manager from the Second Street bank or the hobo who got caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. There were no favorites in His world because each and every one of them deserved a chance at second life.

Time was a precious commodity he could not afford to waste and you had a better chance of stealing a bear cub from its mother than to convince the Dark Knight to not take the call. He would not let a life slip by just so that he could get a couple of hours of rest. That would be the ultimate form of selfishness and he would not forgive himself to forgo it. Life was precious and it was sacred to him. It was a sacrament that he vowed to himself on that day when the gunshot was fired and pushed him into this sanctuary that he crafted and honed since he was six years old. His boot hit the gas break. There was no telling what was to happen next. Each second slipped away like sand through his hands.

"So which way did he go?" Nightwing, his protégé' who was more like a son than a second hand man, asked.

"He was going North towards Bristol County. He will be at Carson to be exact." Batman said simply.

"How do you know? There's a Mutter-like museum as well as a replica of the Lizzie Borden house…." Dick's memory backtracked like a VCR rewinding in his head trying to recall anything that might sound like anything that the Joker might use as a hiding place just like a falcon carefully chose a part on a cliff to build its nest.

"There's an old carnival and candy shop that was built during the Depression. It has not been used in five years. Strict city budget cuts did not make the destruction of it a priority. Joker once used it to try and lure me in. This was long before your time." Batman lectured.

Nightwing knew it was better not to ask why his father figure never really took the time to break the clown's knees effectively or make it so that he was the one that was paraplegic and not Barbara. His logic did not make sense and yet he knew it was because he had a moral code and to question it would be like trying to deny a lion its nature. Yes, you could teach it new tricks, just like Bruce utilized the latest in technological advances but all in all, you could not tame the beast that was within his belly. A nun had her rosary and her sacraments, the doctors had their Hippocratic Oath, Two Face had his coin and the law. Batman had his psychological crutch and for what it was worth, he did not blame him for being that way. It was important to him. It was second nature to him like breathing.

Finally, they arrived at the supposed spot. The tell tale signs of the life that once stood out like a rainbow on a cloudy day. It was worn and tattered but the signs that he was at the right place were undeniable. There was a rotted circus tent. Perfect as it was the clown's forte'. There was also giant size animals and clown statues. They wouldn't be so creepy looking if the place had not withered, dried and had been taken care of. The giant ten foot tall teddy bear looked like something out of Steven King's worst nightmares. The wide grin did not help. Nightwing made a face that made it look like he just smelled something bad. Batman walked on trying to investigate the area which had the aura of a haunted house. He looked for clues such as footprints in the mud, music in the distance or a clean mirror. The clown was vain and there was no way he would greet his arch-nemesis without looking exquisite and his best like a feline grooming itself.

Even if his motif was the court jester, there was something cat-like about his graces. Perhaps it was the narcissism combined with polished sophistication and the thrill of the hunt that gave off that air from him. He may have been a clinical psychopath but he was a little too functional, too precise and a little too theatrical. At best, that term was limiting. It was like calling Bob Dylan or John Lennon mere singers when their careers encompassed acts of charity and political ones as well. Even performer was too small a word to ascribe to them. That is what Joker was, a performance artist. It is not hard to imagine that some would consider him a sort of magician, even if the props were living.

Dick Grayson or Nightwing kept his opinions to himself. At times, he would be tempted to tell Bruce to take it easy, but that would be like telling the Crocodile Hunter to give the Komodo dragon some space. It was second nature of him to be brash and obsessive. There were times where he noticed that the Joker looked like the prey and Batman was the hunter. To question it or give Batman his opinion would more than likely be met with some rash repercussion at worst, ignored at best. The last part did hurt a little but not as much because he had gotten used to it. Still, there were days when it made him feel small or insignificant. He was important enough to have been invited onto this trip. That was a good sign, right? But what good was being co-pilot when your opinion or help did not matter? It was like being an extra set of hands and nothing more, a serf on a piece of land.

Both men surveyed the run down circus-like atmosphere. The only thing missing was faraway circus-like music that would have made Hitchcock squirm. The horses on the merry go round were unclean and some of them were missing large body parts. They looked like they were in the slaughterhouse. Some of them had their mouths agape, their dead eyes staring back. It would not have made a difference if they were lying on the ground or propped up with feathers and pristine saddles. They all looked dead and this was a graveyard. It was perfect for the thin white Duke of Death. Here was this barren wasteland where life once thrived on simple pleasures such as cotton candy, soda pop and Juggles the Clown. Now, he was its Erashkigal. He corrupted it like cancer did to healthy tissue.

It is one thing if a flood or some natural disaster occurred a month back and the city did not clean up the area. It is quite another to use this place as a natural habitat for a trap. Batman scanned for any clues or signs of life. It was an oxymoron to be looking for such a thing in a place that resembled something that R.L. Stine might use as a setting in his children's novels. A subtle rustle of grass, the sound of buzzing electricity in the Northeast corner, a giggle, someone running or anything would have been like finding that valuable needle in the haystack.

"I'll go check the abandoned funhouse." Nightwing declared. Batman gave a nonverbal nod of approval. Both parted. It meant one half less of team work or protection but it also meant double the vision and hindsight.

The Dark Knight browsed between the gazebos and stacks that once sold popcorn, cotton candy or stuffed animals. Signs were dilapidated, like the teeth belonging to a meth addict. His hearing did not pick up any sound of running feet or buzzing which would suggest some habitation. He also did not see anything out of the ordinary that would hint at a recent transmigration to this old shack. He did not feel anything warm or cold or anything that suggested freshness or living or anything that suggested a new inhabitant.

At worst, it was certainly possible that Joker was not here at all but then what would he be doing at a museum when he's not exactly an outdoorsman?

Just then, the sound of a loud buzz and whirl shot out from behind him and then he felt a piercing sting on the back of his beck. A second one shot out and this time it got him on the shin. It was stuck to his boot. He looked up at the direction from where the shots came from. They were dart-like little 'bullets' complete with a jet-like built with a curved smile attached to them. He glared up at the direction from where he felt them jab at his skin and armor. Greeting him was a smiling Harley Quinn. She was sitting on top of a buttressed tent.

"We couldn't have the party without you, Bats!" Harley said with a Cheshire grin.

"Where is the Joker, Quinn?" Batman barked. It was a futile question because all she will do was probably play ring around the Rosie and try and delay him. She was a distraction, for him and the clown, nothing else. She was not exactly dangerous but she was annoying. She was like a mosquito you could not catch.

"You really think I am gonna tell ya? That's like telling the kids where the Easter eggs are and the fun part is how you find them!" Harley Quinn giggled.

"I am not playing around, Quinn. Tell me or I will crush your windpipe!"

The threat was an empty one. Even Harley exploited Batman's code of honor.

"Again with the empty bullets, Bats? It's like you are always shooting blanks." The clown girl shot back. She was obviously taking tips from her old man. It would be wrong to underestimate her. She may be insane, she may be mad, she may have the self esteem of a snail but she had her own brand of strength. She was like a rabid Chihuahua pup. The difficult part was to get around it and not get bitten, or in this case, shot. Harley placed the long tube to her mouth. It looked like a large flute or a small didgeridoo. Her facial mask made her look like a tribal warrior prepared for battle. She shot out another dart and Batman averted another possible shot with his batarang.

"Would you like to see how I play skin flute? You wanna be my example?" Harley said with a sneer. Batman scowled at the filthy language and shot his grapple in the air. Harley got up from her kneeling position. Batman chased after her like a bloodhound catching the scent of a rabbit.

"Oy, I was just hitting on you. Maybe those rumors about you and Robin are true!" Harley said with some raspberries. Her super strength gymnastics gave her the leverage and grace of a gazelle, so it was hard to catch her. Not even Catwoman could compare to Harley's skilled acrobatic talents. She had to rely on grapples and an assortment of tools just to keep up. Harley had finesse and even taunted the Dark Knight as she did cartwheels and flips with ease. She was an impala, lithe and graceful. He did not want to admit but he was slightly envious that she was not hindered by bulk like he was. It slowed him down. Damn it, speed up. Don't go to sleep. There is only twenty feet between you. Now it is twenty five, thirty five forty feet. Wake up, stupid!

Harley finally led him to an old house of mirrors-style shack complete with tunnel of love features. It looked like an old house with darkened corridors, broken windows and graffiti with offensive slurs and words festooning the outside parts. Harley dove into an opening like an Olympic diver going for the gold medal. At last, he stood over the place and surveyed it for a bit before going in. All was quiet on the western front but he was prepared to meet the nasty surprise he would encounter in less than two minutes.

Like a dog that had picked up the scent of a dangerous animal, Batman walked along the apparatus. His senses were heightened and sharpened, trying to find any hint of where Quinn wanted to lead him. She was like cub that was leading him to its mother who was far more vicious than the offspring.

Batman walked into a hall but it was not just any type of hall. It had a variety of those mirrors that made you look short and fat or tall and thin. It widened your hips and shortened your face. The orange and red hue of the lights, which were a confirmation that someone was here and that he was at the right place added to the sinister impression of the place, like Willy Wonka's tunnel. The unsteadiness and loss of control perturbed him in thought but not enough that he could not shake it off and focus on his mission. Broken mirrors which made his face looked cracked gave him clues which were as bold as the strokes on Monet's lily pads that suggested that he was getting closer.

Just then, he noticed the sight. Red hair, it was shoulder length with a padded aqua blue dress and heels from New York and Company. It was Mindy and she was still living, judging by the breaths she took under her heaving dress. Breathing or sobbing, it did not matter as long as she was still living. Of course, you could not get into the middle of the labyrinth without running into the Minotaur.

"Oh good, you are here. She was getting on my nerves with her pompous crying and tears. I don't see what her sorority sisters see in her!" A piercing falsetto broke out. It was like the horn for Nordic tribes.

"Joker…" Batman said simply.

"That's my name, unless I am wearing the wrong underwear!" Joker cackled. "Speaking of which, you want to see my new thong underwear?" Joker reached into the back of his pants. "Good girl, Harley. Very well done," Joker smiled at his assistant. Batman sneered. He had her trained like a Doberman pinscher and she did not care if she was treated like a dog. All that mattered to her was being under the clown's good graces.

Batman would have given anything to have the image washed from his neurons but now was not the time. His focus was on getting the girl safe, not giving into the clown's perverted wishes.

"Stop wasting my time, clown!" Batman barked back.

"Who says I am wasting time? Going by that kind of logic, indulging in life's little pleasures is all a waste of time, including you in that little suit." The jester from Hell shot back.

"I don't do it because I want to, clown. I do it because I have to." Batman said grimly.

"Yawn, a perfect way to dismiss yourself of the responsibility and psychosis that which you project onto others," the clown sighed. He was wearing his trademark trench coat and fedora. It was not much in terms of protection but he still commanded attention.

"Joker, let her go." Batman demanded.

"Not until you play my little game, Batman." Joker stated simply.

"It is only a waste of time for both of us, especially you!" The Dark Knight instigated. "Save yourself the broken spine, Joker…."

The clown giggled.

"Oh, no, no, no, no. That is not the game I am talking about." Joker said with a voice laced with pride. He then pulled out something from his coat. It was long and it had a handle.

"You see this, Bats?" Joker held the weapon. He could feel the tension from the Dark Knight's nostrils. It only gave him pleasure that he was adding to the other man's unease. "One pull from my little finger and her brains will be turned into soup. You wouldn't want that, now wouldn't you?" The clown said in an acidic tone of voice.

"Leave her alone." Batman ordered.

"I will…………unless you do me a little favor……" Joker cooed. His tone was softer, quieter, and even desperate. Joker pointed to another room just off the eastern end. "Go there. If you don't do as I say, there will be consequences." Joker said snidely. "And to prove to you that I am serious…." Joker aimed the gun at Quinn and fired. The weapon unloaded a ball of fire and smoke. Harley fell from the ledge and grabbed her knee.

"That was for eating my chocolate turtles. You didn't think I would not find out about it, didn't you?" Joker said as he leaned down onto a huffing and sobbing Harley Quinn. He kissed her on the cheek. As if that would bring back a busted knee cap and possibly torn tendons.

"Watch her for me, won't you, doll?" Joker cooed and wiped a tear from her face.

"A-okay, Mistah J!" Harley coughed. She had not eaten for days and she stumbled upon a box which she thought had some sort of grenades or other explosives. Instead, she found a treasure chest. Her mind bickered between eating the chocolate morsels or not. Her inner gymnast was against it because if she did, she would not fit into her costume. Hunger won out over fear and now she was paying for it with a broken knee cap and leg. Infection would not be too far off.

"Go there. I will meet you in two minutes."

The sound of the gun paralyzed him. He may have had counter-productive tools and weapons. He may have had protection but the sound of the gun paralyzed him mentally. Yes, he had encounters with mobsters who fired rounds at him. Yes, he had Two Face fire arms at him but Joker holding a single weapon in his face brought him back to that time in Crime Alley when his innocence was cut short. It was a mental relapse and the fact that it was someone else who ran the risk of being on the opposite end of Joker's gun was a thought he could not bear to repeat or go over. The reliving of the incident was too much.

He would rather deal with the clown one on one than have an extra precaution be the unlucky recipient of Joker's 'gift'.

He went to the direction where the clown ordered him. What he found on the other side was something that his mind could not have figured out beforehand. A canopy bed with large lavender curtains to the side stood before him. To his side was a collection of lamps, some were lit dimly while others shone like a supernova. A small closet drawer was to the side. Probably where the two clowns kept their 'toys' for their 'games'. The Batman suppressed the thought. There was no evidence of Quinn's possessions so there was no proof of them sharing this place. Plus, the clown was a possessive one. He was not one to share with another person. He shot Harley Quinn in the knee because she ate his chocolates. He was hardly democratic.

He noted various articles of clothing on the floor. Someone made a home of this place. Lots of trousers, all pinstriped and purple were on the floor as well as several different colors of fedora hats. A knife here and there was also present. It was at this time that Batman noted a dart board with his face on it. There were several holes all over his face. Joker even made the attempt to make a fake smiley face and of course, blackened some teeth out.

It was at this time that he noted several pieces on the wall. They were pieces, drawings and scribbles on the wall. He also noted some paintings. They were not Picassos or Monets but they were still artwork and judging by the huge letter "J" on the lower left corners, Joker was the creator. He had heard about some art therapy that the asylum was offering but paid no mind to it and dismissed it as pop psychology that would be out as quickly as this year's latest pop tart on MTV. Looks like Joker took advantage and created a variety of pieces including a waterfall, a little girl holding a puppy and a ballerina. Joker of course added some extra 'layers' and applied some red 'bloody' splotches on his pieces either as an extra 'part' or as his 'signature'. It was another side to him that he did not expect to see.

"It's not exactly the Suite at the Luxor Hotel but it is home…" a low pitched falsetto broke out. The Dark Knight turned around and saw the clown leaning against the door sill with his arms across his chest, like he had caught a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I made some of those at Arkham. Eddie made an inappropriate comment about Harley and I shoved a piece of liver down his throat. They took away my soap privileges and there was nothing else to do." Joker said nonchalantly. It was as if his shooting of Harley or the possibility of killing Mindy were nonexistent now. They were on a different plane. Joker was noticeably more calm and conversational but that only made the Dark Knight arch up in heightened sense.

"Don't do that. There is no need for such a thing." Joker said in a soft tone.

"How can it be when your history is anything but peaceful?" Batman said in an uneasy tone. The Joker picked up the shakiness in his voice like a shark to blood.

"I'm at peace right now." Joker said sharply.

"Only until I do something that you won't like." Batman replied keenly. "Then you would not hesitate to shoot or feed me to your piranhas."

"Why would I want to do that? I love to play with you." Joker said sweetly. His eyes widened at the suggestion.

"You have a strange way of showing appreciation, Joker." Batman said in a low voice. "The only appreciation you actually notice is when it is quivering on the floor at your feet."

"Can't a man change? If I can appreciate the arts a little more than maybe I can….untangle that web in your brain." Joker said with a smile.

"I don't need any untangling, clown. I know perfectly well what you stand for. No sweet talk will change that." Batman said sharply. The clown stood there looking at his nails, almost as if he did not even hear a word.

"Perfectly understandable but if we are going to have peace…"

"Don't you get it?! There can be no peace between us!" Batman barked back.

"There can't be of course if you don't choose peace, Bats, unless of course you don't want me to turn Miss Carlton's corpus collosum into mashed potatoes…"

Blackmail. There it was. There was that classic Joker move.

"Just….leave her alone. What do you want from me?" Batman asked. It was humiliating but so long as the focus was not on Mindy but on him, that was okay. He WANTED it that way.

"I want you over there and make to yourself comfortable." Joker nodded to the canopy bed. The suggestion was a thought he did not wish to process further so he went towards the bed. It was for Mindy, not for him.

He sat down on the side of the bed. His cape nestled along the soft padding of the comforter.

"I said make yourself comfortable, not arch yourself up like dog." Joker ordered. He aimed the gun outside the door.

"If I make it from here, I can get either her heart or sternum. Either way, she will be dead un under two minutes." Joker closed his eye and pretended to aim. He took pleasure in seeing Batman did as ordered and lay down on the bed as ordered by the clown. Joker smiled. He had cornered his prey like a black widow spider had caught a fly.

"Good, very good." Joker cooed as he noted the sight. The Batman was under his spell and now it was time to work some more magic. The clown walked over towards the other man. He stood over him like a powerful lord overlooking a slave. Joker sat down next to the other man. He began to run his hands up and down his stomach in a massage-like fashion.

"I've been thinking lately….about you, about me, about us." Joker began, still looking down. "I have been thinking about how…icy things are between us." Joker said softly.

"You are acting like this is new. Things are the way they are because of you." Batman muttered.

"I know and I take full responsibility for past transgressions." Joker said softly.

"You think that will bring back B-Barbara Gordon's legs or Robin? You are pathetic!" Batman spat back.

"I said I took full responsibility for what happened. That's all in the past though and I am ready for a much brighter future…." Joker said with a smile.

"Anything you plan to do will not undo what you have caused. There are records, newspaper clips, and online broadcasts."

"I am not talking about the public. They can call me whatever the Hell they like. I am talking about YOU and me." Joker said calmly.

"What do I have to do with anything? I'm only here because of you. Nothing else. My perception won't change of you." Batman barked.

"What I am saying is that maybe they won't change their perceptions of me, but maybe, just maybe I can change YOUR perception of me." Joker said in a calm and candid manner.

"What are you talking about? I am not interested in your psychobabble nonsense!" Batman shot back at the clown venomously.

"NO psychobabble here. I just simply want to mend broken bridges." Joker said softly.

"You charred it, burnt it and put salt on it." Batman said angrily. "There is nothing to mend."

"Such absolute black and white thinking! I could do that, you know, but that is boring. I like subjectivity. I like looking at the smaller things and deconstructing the small parts. It makes the painting more interesting if you notice the small things." Joker said with a smile as he leaned forward. Batman noted the gun in the other man's hand. It was caressed by a doeskin glove. Joker noted where the Batman's eyes averted and brought the weapon close to his mouth. He kissed the tip and giggled.

"Never leave home without it." Joker said in a sinister fashion. He started to run his tongue along the side of the gun in a slow fashion. It caught the other man's attention like a moth to a flame. Joker flicked his tongue on the underside of the weapon before he took it further. He took great delight in seeing the Dark Knight squirm at his administrations. He then proceeded to put the entire length of the gun in his mouth and began to mock deep throat the weapon. Batman winced at the sight. It was one thing for Joker to talk about what kind of undergarments he was wearing. It was quite another to demonstrate his fellatio tactics.

Batman repressed the feeling of motion sickness from his stomach. The Joker caught it.

"Repression is a very horrible thing, love. It is very unhealthy. Me, I love me uninhibited types." Joker said proudly. He then arched himself up onto the bed, straddling over the other man. Batman froze. The gun was within reach. He tried to reach for it but the clown wily kept it away from his hands. Joker let out some disappointed tusks. Batman preferred dealing with guns in a more chaotic environment. At least then, he had movement and distractions. Here, he had the weapon in his face and it mentally paralyzed him. His post traumatic stress did not end when he took up on the cowl. It still seeped through in adulthood. He still had trouble maintaining stable relationships with women, he had major trust issues. He was also very egocentric and demanded control, something he desperately tried to recreate as a reaction from what happened that night all those years ago. Guns even provided for an effect similar to what Vietnam vets had after their service in Saigon or Mai Lai. Even twenty thirty years later, the sound of a pop was enough to make them hide or raise their blood pressure to unhealthy levels. Batman was paralyzed when he saw the weapon aimed at his face. It was a cold empty hollow instrument of death.

"Naughty naughty…." Joker said in a dark fashion. He then proceeded to fire a shot in the air to demonstrate who was boss. He may have been one third of his size but that did not mean he lacked in resources. The sound made the other man's body clench and freeze. It was like being whipped from Selina's weapon or feeling a crack hit in his back. Joker took note of Batman's weakness and proceeded to spread himself over the other man and sat on his hips.

"You really need to let go of the repression because the only thing it will do is give you heart problems." Joker said warningly.

"I am not falling for your tricks. You want to electrocute me, set fire on me or stab me, go ahead. Just leave the girl out. It's me you really want."

"Well nice to see you have it finally figured out!" Joker declared. It was then that the clown began to take off his trench coat and tossed it to the side. The Dark Knight always knew that the clown was built in a lithe fashion. His waist was thin and his thighs were trim. He added pressure to the other man's hips so as not to let go. Joker aimed the gun at the Batman's face and pressed it hard to his cheek.

"I bet you didn't see this one, didn't you?" Joker said with a hoot of giggles.

"You are disgusting," Batman ordered. He tried to start the meditation and Buddhist practice of separating the mind and body but could not do it for he started to feel the Joker's crotch rub against his own. It broke his concentration and stifled it.

He would have preferred to be have been stabbed, kicked, beaten or anything but be under the current state he was.

"And it seems to me that you are afraid of change….and intimacy…" Joker said nonchalantly.

It tugged at Batman's heart strings. He knew that he could not form a healthy relationship with another woman because they would not understand the nature of his 'job'. That is how he rationalized. The closest was Catwoman but she was not exactly marriage material going by her independent nature.

Meanwhile, Joker savored feeling the Batman underneath him. He felt blood rush to his cock in excitement and began to rub himself against the other man's privates. Batman fought back at the sensations that were erupting when he felt the other man rub against him like a cat in heat. Joker growled and grabbed the other man's hand and attached it to his hip. The other hand still had the gun.

"You are still tense, like robot that needs oil in the nooks and crannies." Joker declared.

"Go to Hell." Batman stated simply. Joker applied his hips more strongly onto the other man's hips.

"I am an Atheist so that comment means nothing to me." Joker said in a pompous manner. "But a little noise from you would mean the world to me."

Don't yield to his touches, don't give him an inch, and don't give him anything, Batman thought to himself.

He repressed a moan that threatened to erupt from his throat but let it out as a painful groan, as if he was passing a stone rather one done out of pleasure. It did not fool the clown. Score, Joker one, Bat breath, zero.

Joker stretched his long body over the Batman's. They were now face to face. It was then that Joker let out a breath of hot air and exhaled onto the Batman's cheek. The taller man shook like a leaf by this time. Joker smiled and ran a finger around the other man's face. Batman shivered at the touch because it reminded him of when Selina, Catwoman did it. Then it was admittedly sensuous. This time, it had the same effect in away. Joker's hands were small and his light frame did not help. Still, Batman froze. Joker took note. He was a shrinking violet and what he wanted was the Batman to blossom for him and only him. He was close and yet so far away.

"You are mystery personified. I like the challenge and believe me, I will make you open up like a Venus flytrap, my pet…." Joker said softly.

The white skinned man lay over him and did the unthinkable. He ran his tongue from Batman's chin and across his lips, like a cat about to eat a piece of meat. Batman's stomach groaned while Joker's was filled with butterflies. Joker then proceeded to plant a small kiss on the other man's cheek but not before pressing the gun onto the other side of his face. The detective could still feel the hotness against his face. It froze him momentarily. Joker ran a tongue on the side of his face. Batman could not help but note Joker's artistic strokes. Like a cat running its thick coated papillae onto its paws, fur or a mate, it reminded him of Monet's strokes and his own paintings which were applied carefully with enough precision to evoke the desired reaction that Joker craved. Hot breath against each kiss made his stomach squirm and at the same time, made blood rush to his penis. Joker let out a small titter. It reminded him of the supermodels and cocktail waitresses he would bring home for the night.

"Why so serious?" Joker asked.

"Why so desperate?" Batman spat back. Joker smiled.

"Because now that I have the hive, I want to taste the honey…" Joker said in a sweet manner.

Their exchange was cut short when a burst of glass overhead broke their concentration. A black figure fell down from the top, sending pieces of sharp glass onto the floor. Harley Quinn landed at her side, unconscious.

"NO!!!" Batman shouted. The Joker aimed the gun at Nightwing and proceeded to fire. He was none too pleased of the uninvited guest.

"Just how many of these things do you have, Bats? They're like cockroaches." Joker hissed.

Batman arched his hips up and wrestled the clown onto his back and onto the floor. He held onto the wrist that had the gun and quickly grasped at the wrist clenching the weapon.

"Playtime's over, Joker." The Dark Knight said in a gruff voice. He pinned the clown onto his chest using his knees and thighs.

"Are you okay?" Batman asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It took me awhile to find this place. Let's get these two clowns." Nightwing said with enthusiasm.

After Harley Quinn and the Joker were arrested, the ride home was perhaps one of the most awkward exchanges Nightwing had ever felt. He wanted to ask what that was all about. He saw his boss, his mentor, his father figure practically LYING beneath the clown. He managed to catch at least ten seconds of the encounter before he was subdued by Harley and another Henchman before he fought back and broke their.......tryst. Nightwing kept gazing at Batman from the corner of his eye while trying to supress a smile, hoping that the topic might pop up but at the same time he knew that was as likely as snow landing in the Sonora desert. At the same time, it tickled him pink seeing Batman in a….compromising position like that.

"So…"

"Don't." Batman said abruptly.

"Okay." Nightwing said quickly.

And that was the end of that. The topic was never to be brought up ever again. Dick made a zipping motion with his hands across his mouth. Perhaps it was best that this would be one of those things that he did not have to know or question.

Sometimes, ignorance was indeed bliss.

* * *

I wanted to add a slightly humorous touch to the whole thing. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
